from [email protected] who said something like: Carry the lake inside. Under the heavy sky, three granite peaks He walked a thousand miles to ask, "Why?" Seeking the Mirror, the sacred shore, To find the light he held before. But the wind came sharp, the clouds sat low, The old water gave him nothing back... Nothing but himself. He grabbed a crooked branch, started in on the waves, Hands in the muck, trying to prove he was brave. Scooped up black mud with his split-up palms, Threw his rage at the shallows, hard and calm. He flung rocks, cursed the rain, Trying to cut clean through his pain. But every hit just stirred the bottom, Dark silt rose, thick and slow. And the water went black as ink, Too tangled up to see, too loud to think. Don't beat the water, let it be, The truth you want is rough and free. When the storm inside begins to rise, The mud will blind your weary eyes. You can't force the glass to clear, Can't punch a hole through fear. Just fold your hands, let go the fight, And let the stillness heal the night. Worn out, bent low, under a willow's shade, He gave up the pride that had kept him caged. No more calling out, no more demands, He left his questions in the weeping sands. He shut his eyes, let the current pull, And let the wild storm wash his skull. He gave himself to the dark. Then the wind went soft down on the pine, That heavy lid split open to gold lines. Slowly... softly... without a sound, The dark grains drifted to the ground. No filter, no trick, no clever move, Just the quiet gravity of a healing heart. The lake became a sheet of glass, Watching the winter pass. Don't beat the water, let it be, The truth you seek is wild and free. When the storm inside begins to rise, The mud will blind your weary eyes. You can't force the glass to clear, Can't punch a hole through fear. Just fold your hands, let go the fight, And let the stillness heal the night. Look down, traveler. Look inside. Old green moss, where the dream roots hide. Great golden fish in a silent parade, Where the architecture of the soul is made. Look up at the sky, then back again, Crimson dusk, and the egrets bend. The first small star starts to gleam... There's a whole world inside your The cosmos dances through your feet. Hmm, let the silt fall... Let it fall... The storm has passed. Carry the lake inside.
